Not Orlando, but not Uganda
by iamstormageddon
Summary: What if Kevin and Arnold were sent somewhere else on their mission? This is the story of where they are sent and what they find there.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, guys! This is my first Book of Mormon fanfic (I usually do Hunger Games ones), so I hope you enjoy! Please, please please please! (offers you a million dollars) Read and Review!**

"Elder Price!"

My heart stops. This is the moment. I step forward.

"Yes, Sir!"

"Your brother will be Elder Cunningham!"

_No, not him! _My eyes shift to Arnold, who has just stepped out of the line of the other Elders awaiting their mission location. Well, if my mission brother is Arnold Cunningham, who doesn't know the Book of Mormon from the Book of the Dead, at least the Heavenly Father will grant me the location I want the most…_Orlando. _The word flows like a river in my mind.

My thoughts are quickly silenced, however, by Arnold shouting, "That's me! That's me!" He has finished running from the line to my side, a good twenty feet away. By the time he reaches me, he is panting slightly. "Hello!" he says, addressing me.

Trying to be nice, I reply tentatively, "Oh…hi!"

"And your mission location is…"

I cross my fingers. _Please, Heavenly Father, _I pray in my head, _please make it Orlando. Please, please! _

"New York City!"

My spirits sink. I feel the beauty of Orlando slipping away by the second.

"New York?" I say dejectedly. I do _not _want to have my two-year mission spent in New York City, especially with a mission brother like _Arnold. _But this must be what Heavenly Father wants. So I guess I'll just grin and bear it.

But Arnold seems perfectly happy about it. He says to me, "Isn't this great, Kevin? New York…the land of 'I Heart!'"

That's just Arnold Cunningham for you. I mean, he's not that bad of a guy, but he doesn't have many friends at LDS. Maybe it's on account of his _Star Wars _and _Lord of the Rings _obsessions, but I'm not too sure.

We go over to Elder Ward, one of the head Elders, to receive our airline tickets and itineraries. As we head to the exit doors of the church building, Arnold turns to me and says brightly, "Well, Kevin, I guess it's you and me, changing lives for the better! Isn't this exciting?"

"Yes," I reply, forcing a smile. _You and me, _I think, _but mostly me. _He must know that I'm the Elder that's worked the hardest in the LDS Missionary Training Program. I have absorbed every passage, memorized every prayer, and gone to every church session. He has learned almost nothing. There's no way he can properly instruct the New York citizens on Mormanism! How could a devout, faithful person like me end up with such rotton luck like this?

Nevertheless, I make my way back to my house six blocks from the church, make myself dinner, and go to bed. Tomorrow, I leave for New York. There will be other Elders there, of course, from different churches. I just pray that the Heavenly Father will grant me a successful mission. May God bless them. And God bless Arnold Cunningham, who could really use it.

**So that's it! New chapter coming tomorrow (I think). Tell me what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

I step out into the open air from the LaGuardia airport, my small luggage bag in tow, and take a deep breath. I immediately start coughing violently. It smells like a sickening mix of cigarette smoke and gasoline. It's similar to Salt Lake City, actually, but magnified a thousand times.

Arnold quickly materializes next to me, his larger-than-needed suitcase struggling to keep upright. "Kevin, how much longer until we get to our hotel?"

"Not far," I say, my eyes watering. "Actually, it's only about 15 minutes by cab."

"I've never ridden in a cab before," Arnold says nervously. "Is it fun?"

I sigh. "It's just like riding in a car, only there's someone else driving, and you have to pay for the ride."

"Oh," he says, and shuts up. Which is a relief.

I look up and down the street for a vacant cab. When I find one, I notice it has an advertisement for a New York strip club on top.

"Um," I say, a little awkwardly, "taxi."

It drives by. Of course it does. I'm not getting into a cab with an advertisement that features women in such a negative light!

Another comes our way almost immediately. This one's advertisement is for _Chicago._ Good enough.

"Taxi!" I shout, putting one foot onto the pavement of the street and waving my hand. The driver notices me and pulls over to Arnold and me. When he slows to a stop next to us, the trunk pops open. I haul both Arnold's and my bag into the trunk, and get in with Arnold.

"Where to?" asks the cab driver. He is African-American, with puffy black hair.

"Um," I say, looking at my itinerary. "The Milford Plaza."

"Yes, sir," replies the driver, and we move forward.

In less than 20 minutes, we arrive at the hotel. It is rather small, but that's the point of the missions. They teach you how to live in relative poverty. For example, this hotel doesn't have housekeeping. You have to pick up fresh sheets from a room on the ground floor. I don't mind that, but I wonder how Arnold will cope with it.

We check in, get our room keys and our room assignment, and head over to the elevators. I look in the place where I expect the arrow buttons to be, but instead I find a keypad with numbers.

I stare at it, trying to decipher how to work it. Then, Arnold interjects my concentration by saying, "You should try pressing '18', it's our floor number."

I look at him. He has a point. I enter '18' on the keypad. The LED display blinks for a second, then simply shows the letter 'B'.

I gaze around the elevators, finding elevator B. I locate it just as its doors open.

"Over here, Arnold," I tell him. We enter the elevator with some difficulty (Arnold's bag overturned again), and ride up 18 floors, with Arnold screaming all the way.

"Are you afraid of elevators?"

"How are you not? They're so scary! They just shoot up at a million miles an hour, and I'm so paranoid that the cord is just gonna snap, and…and I'm gonna die!" He's practically crying at the end of his little speech.

I am taken aback by his sensitivity. I guess there's more to Arnold Cunningham than I thought.

After dropping our bags in our room, which is very small with two twin beds next to each other, we follow the itinerary and report to the hotel's Conference Room to meet the other Elders.

When we walk into the Conference Room, the big, long table is full of Elders of various ages and appearances, but all wearing the same white shirts, black pants, black shoes, and ties. The Elder at the head of the table stands up and walks to us. He's an older man, about late 40's, with violently red hair.

"Well, well! Our new recruits! Welcome to New York City, boys!" he says brightly. "My name is Elder McKinley. And you are?"

"Elder Price, sir," I tell him. He nods, then looks at Arnold.

"Elder Cunningham!"

"Wonderful! Have a seat at the table, we have some things to discuss."

We find seats at the end of the table. I sit next to a younger, smaller Elder with white-blonde hair and dark eyes.

"Hi," he says, in a shy voice that matches his build. "I'm Elder Thomas."

"Elder Price," I say. "Where are you from?"

"Alabama. How about you?"

I was about to answer him when Elder McKinley began to talk. "Welcome, Elders old and new, to Manhattan's District 3! I'm happy to have all of you here. We'll go around the table; say your name and the city you're from!" He looks to the Elder on his left.

"Elder Davis. I'm from Chicago."

"Elder Lee, from Traverse City, Michigan."

"Elder Thompson. Stone Harbor, New Jersey."

"Elder Moore. I'm from Ransom, North Dakota."

The list goes on and on. Occasionally, a city is repeated, because there's two Elders for every location. When they get to Elder Thomas, he looks down into his lap and says sheepishly, "Elder Thomas, from Epton, Alabama."

"Don't cha mean 'Elder Pop-Tarts'?" pipes up Elder Stewart, his mission companion, from across the table. All the other Elders except me and Elder McKinley laugh good-naturedly, but Elder Thomas hides his face in his arms. "Shut up," he says quietly, but no one else hears him.

"That's not very nice," I say to Elder Stewart, like a kid in grade school who is being made fun of. The laughs fall silent.

"I agree," adds Elder McKinley. "Elder Stewart, time with the other Elders is supposed to be a friendly and safe environment."

"I'm sorry, Elder."

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to your mission companion!"

"Sorry, Elder Pop-Tarts."

"_Elder Stewart!_"

"Right! Sorry, Elder Thomas."

"You're forgiven."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Chapter 3 is here! I worked really hard on this one! Enjoy! P.S. if you Favorited or put this on your Alerts (or both), then I love you.**

**P.P.S. Check out a later chapter I posted yesterday, called "The Atheist Girl's Hell Dream." Read it! It will get you excited about this story and the future chapters! :D**

For the rest of the meeting, Elder McKinley gives each pair of companions a map showing what streets they would be ringing doorbells on. Arnold and I are covering 42nd and 43rd Streets. At least we're near some cool places, says Arnold. I just want to convert all the people on our assigned streets and get it over with. Fun can come later.

We get some plastic bags from Elder McKinley. When I look inside them, they're filled with pocket-sized _Book of Mormons_ to hand out to people.

Arnold and I walk out of the building, follow the map, and find 42nd Street. We walk down it for a while, and before long we find an apartment building. I open the door, and Arnold follows me to the first apartment, _301. _We knock.

"Watch and learn, Elder," I tell Arnold. He nods enthusiastically.

The door opens. A small boy with big brown eyes stands in the doorway, clearly frightened.

"Hello!" I say, as brightly as possible. The little boy just stares. "Is your mother or father home?"

He nods, and leaves the doorway, the door still ajar. Arnold and I stand there for a while, until a man comes to the door. He is tall, with wire-rimmed glasses. He looks moderately young, early 30's, and he wears a suit and tie, like he just came from work.

"Hello, my name is Elder Price," I say, starting the standard greeting I learned in Utah at the LDS Missionary Training Center. "I would like to share this book with you. It's guaranteed to change your life." I pull out a book from my plastic bag and hold it up.

I expect the door to slam in my face, which happens almost every time I've tried to go door-to-door, but he doesn't. He just looks at the book, then at me, kind of like his son did. I stop.

"Go on," he says.

"Well," I continue, "It's called the Book of Mormon. It tells about America a long time ago, starting in the Year of Our Lord 326 A.D."

"Interesting," the man says. "You know, we get a lot of missionaries advertising the Bible, but never this book. Can I have a copy?"

I am overjoyed at his interest. "Yes, of course! Here!" I say, handing him the one I'm holding. "Read it, and then if you have any further questions, contact Elder McKinley." I hand him McKinley's card with his phone number on it.

"Thank you, sir," he says good-naturedly. "Have a good day."

"You, too!" The door closes.

I turn to Arnold. "Isn't this amazing! Look how well that worked! We're going to convert so many people!"

"Let me try, let me try!" I agree, and he practically sprints over to the next door, _303. _He knock vivaciously, and the door immediately opens. It's a teenaged girl, with dark hair and green eyes. In one hand is a cell phone, in the other an apple.

"Hello, Miss!" says Arnold, a lot lounder than needed. The girl winces. "I'm Elder Cunningham! Here's a free book about Jesus!" He thrusts a copy of the _Book of Mormon _toward the girl. She accepts it awkwardly, glares at Arnold and slams the door shut.

"I did it!" he cries victoriously. I roll my eyes discreetly, letting him bask in his little success.

"I got the next one," I say curtly. I approach the next door, _305, _and knock sharply. "Now _watch and learn, _Elder. You have to be agreeable, not scary."

The door opens and I open my mouth to speak, but the sight of the person at the door makes the words freeze in my mouth.

She is beautiful. I guess that's all I can say. She is my height, and appears to be around my age. Her hair is a soft red, and her pale green eyes pierce mine. Freckles lightly sprinkle her cheeks and nose, and her lips gradually form into a small smile when she sees me in my current state: paralyzed.

"Can I help you?" she asks gently, and I almost faint. Her voice is soft and light, and it reminds me of summer days when grass is freshly mown and birds are singing.

"Um, er…I, well, umm…" I can't think of anything intelligent to say to her. I can't even utter the standard greeting. I am just so mesmerized by her.

"Yes?" she says, clearly amused at me being suddenly struck dumb.

Abruptly, I say the first thing that comes into my head. "I have this book."

She raises her eyebrows. "I see that, Captain Obvious. Thanks for the update. Have a nice day." She reaches for the door handle, trying to retreat back into her house.

Desperate to keep her attention, I exclaim, "No, Miss! Wait! It's a special book!"

She turns back to me, confused. "How so?"

I hold up the _Book _so she can see the cover. "This book contains the virtures by which I believe and live."

"What are you, some weird kind of Jehovah's Witness?"

"Well, no. I'd actually like to tell you a bit about the book. The _Book of Mormon._"

She shakes her head. "No thanks, Sir. I'm a Catholic. See?" She holds out the Irish cross pendant that hangs around her neck, then turns to shut the door again.

Feeling her beauty slipping away by the second, I cry desparately, "Please! Can you please just listen to me for a minute! I promise you'll be interested by what I have to say."

She looks me up and down, fully drinking me in. "Fine, I'm listening, Pretty Boy."

Her comment throws me off for a moment and sets me daydreaming again, but I quickly regain focus. "Alright, so the _Book of Mormon _follows the early Mormon people, the Nephites, as they learn things through the teachings of Jesus. So sort of like Catholicism, for instance, but different in some ways."

She nods, and looks at me with a new kind of interest that made me slightly uncomfortable. "Oh, I can think of a lot of ways that Catholicism and Mormanism are the same, Pretty Boy."

I shake off the awkwardness by asking, "Oh, so you're familiar with the Morman practices?"

"Well, no," she says, the new interest growing stronger and more apparent, "but I know some things that both our churches probably don't allow." She moves to me, smiling.

I back away a step. "Er…like what?"

In reply, she reaches out and grabs me by my tie. She pulls me into her, and presses her lips against mine.

At first, I am as frightened as the little boy that answered the door. But after a moment or two, I start to…enjoy it.

_No, stop it, Kevin! _I tell myself. _That kind of thinking is what sends you to Hell! _

But then she lets go of me. Lost in my thoughts, I stumble back, slightly dazed. "Like that."

There is a long silence between us where we just hold each other's gaze, but then she interjects brightly, "By the way, I'm Mary. Mary O'Keefe. You are?"

I feel my face getting redder by the second, and I can no longer look her in the eye. "Elder…Elder Price. But you can call me…Kevin."

She smiles again. "Alright, Kevin. Drop by again sometime. I'd love to hear more about Mormon and Catholic…similarities." She winks and closes the door.

I remain rooted to the spot for a while longer, thinking. Did that really just happen, or am I just dreaming? I've never really had feelings for girls before. Actually, I've never had romantic feelings for anyone, actually, until today. I am a transformed 24-year-old.

I relish in my thoughts about Mary until Arnold breaks the silence. "I watched, but I didn't really learn much. Sorry."

**Thanks, guys! Read and Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi, guys! If you're still reading this, you are incredible. Enough said. Here's chapter 4! enjoy!**

"Oh, Heavenly Father, thank you for helping us arrive here in New York safe and sound, and thank you for sticking us with a great District and a great group of Elders. Bless all of them, particularly Elder Thomas."

"Yeah, I like him, too."

"And bless us as we convince people to follow you and your promise of eternal life. Amen."

"Wait, Elder Price, I want to add something!"

"OK, go ahead."

"Um…dear Lord, please, er, help Elder Price to not have a Hell dream tonight. Amen."

"Ame- wait, _what?_"

"Well…after what happened today with that lady…"

"Elder Cunningham, nothing happened. Everything's absolutely _fine. _Don't worry about me. No Hell dreams for me tonight…I hope."

"I think you will."

"Gee, thanks for the support, Elder. I love how you have so much faith in me."

"Just saying…"

"Like I said, _nothing happened._"  
>"Well, I'm sorry, Elder Price, but when she kissed you, it kind of looked like you were…enjoying it."<p>

"Shut _up, _Elder! I was not!"

"I don't blame you, Elder. She _is _pretty."

"No, she's _NOT_!"

"Elder…"

"_Fine. _She's beautiful. Happy?"

"Yep! Goodnight, Elder Price. See you in the morning!"

"Our beds are right next to each other."

"Yeah, I know, but…I won't actually be _looking _at you for the whole night!"

"I seriously doubt that, Elder."

"Hey…"

"Goodnight!"

…**..**

I have a Hell dream after all.

It starts as they always do. I'm standing in a landscape of white. No features, no other life forms. Just me and the whiteness.

Then, a black dot forms at my feet. It gets bigger and bigger, and begins to spin, sucking the whiteness into itself. I always try to run from it, but it's useless. It always gets me, and before I know it, I'm standing in Hell, a cave of red dirt and fire. Naked demons with deformed faces run around, cackling and instilling fear in my heart. I shouldn't be scared of them anymore, considering I've seen them nearly every night since I was five. But they still frighten me, and I turn away from them every time they rush past.

The Figures approach me next. I can't describe them any other way. Their black, film-like skin covers their whole bodies, except their red, gaping mouths filled with razor-sharp fangs. They throw me against the wall and dig their teeth into my flesh while I scream from the pain. Then, chains appear on my wrists and ankles, imprisioning me to the wall. That's when I'm forced to watch the main event of the dream…the mental torture.

Tonight, it's Mary standing in front of me. Smiling, waving.

I try to wave, but I realize that my arms are chained to the wall. I blush and glance away.

_Come on, Kevin! _I tell myself. _It's a dream, pull yourself together! _

Then, the Figures come for Mary, with whips and clubs and Bibles and crosses. They whip her, hit her with the clubs and the crosses, and scream at her in their harsh, ghastly, serpent-like voices, "_Whore! Scum! Dregs of the Catholic society! Burn in Hell! God rejects you and your kind!_" Mary screams and tries to defend from the weapons with her hands, but it's a fruitless effort. They just keep pounding at her until she is bloody, motionless, and out of screams.

I wake up in my bed, screaming and crying, and for the first time in 20 years, it's not because of a doughnut.

**How did I do? Please Read and Review! Love you guys!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5! Kinda short, sorry. My school musical is coming up on Thursday, and all of this weekend, so rehearsal schedules have been getting kinda crazy lately. But I love you guys and I'm trying to update as much as possible! Please R&R! And for all the people who reviewed/Favorited/put this on their Alerts, then I love you more than chocolate. Okay, maybe not chocolate. But more than Ramen. Dear Lord, Ramen is good. **

The brisk wind blows across Central Park, sending many things flying into motion, including discarded newspapers, leaves, and my hair. It blows into my face, getting in my mouth and eyes. I brush it out of my vision and try to focus on what Elder McKinley is trying to tell me, Arnold, and Elder Thomas.

"Now, you three are very promising to me in terms of missionaries," Elder McKinley is trying to say above the din of the gusts, "and I expect you all to receive many clients and baptize a lot of New Yorkers. Alright?" We nod. It's funny, though, because Arnold never struck me as very promising.

McKinley begins to talk about something else, but my mind is on other things. Mary, specifically. If I weren't on a mission, I would definitely try and make a further relationship with her, but even that sounds intimidating. She's just so perfect.

_Shut up, Kevin! She doesn't deserve you! Besides,_ I tell myself with confidence, _I'm an LDS Elder. A respectable, clean-shaven Elder. My kind doesn't mix with hers. Not in a million years._ _Oh, God, who am I kidding? She's gorgeous._

As my eyes travel behind McKinley around the park, I scan around the countless heads of both dark and blonde hair, and then I see a flash of red…

_Red!_

Sure enough, Mary is walking briskly on the walkway behind our little group. It's almost impossible! New York is so big…

I look at her, hoping that I could somehow telepathically get her attention. Oddly,

she stops all of a sudden and turns to look in my direction.

Our eyes meet, and she grins.

"Kevin!"

McKinley turns toward the voice just as Mary comes running toward us on the grass. A slight frown of disapproval is plastered on his face. Not too apparent, but still present.

Mary stops at my side and puts her arm around my shoulder, smiling the whole time. Arnold is trying not to laugh, and Elder Thomas has a look of wonder on his face, as if he's never seen a woman in his life. But McKinley glares at us, and I suddenly wish she wasn't here.

"Heya, Kevin! Crazy seeing you here! How are ya, Kevin?" I glance over at McKinley, whose annoyance is now completely obvious. I mutter through my teeth to Mary, "_Elder."_

"Oh, I mean…Elder Kevin?"

"_Price."_

"Price?"

"Elder Price," finishes McKinley, who's now really angry but trying to hide it (to no avail), "who is your little…friend?"

I feel myself blushing again. Arnold giggles and quickly throws his hand over his mouth. No one really takes notice.

"Er, Elder McKinley, this is Mary O'Keefe. I visited her apartment yesterday with Arnold as part of our route, and…she was, er, certainly interested."

Mary catches my drift, and nods enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah! I've…I've seen the light! Er…Hallelujah, praise Jesus!" She smiles convincingly, but McKinley is not impressed.

"I think it would be best, dear, if you leave now."

With a cheery look, just to spite McKinley, Mary waves goodbye to Arnold and Elder Thomas, shakes hands with McKinley, and gives me an unusually long peck on the cheek. When she is gone, Elder Thomas looks at me in awe, and Arnold is not trying to suppress the laughter anymore. But Elder McKinley looks like he wants to murder me in my sleep.

"Elder Price," he says in a dangerously quiet voice. "Are you seeing that girl?"

I don't want to answer the question, considering McKinley's current state of anger, but I have to be honest. "Yes, Elder McKinley, I am."

A small, diabolical smile forms on his face. "And are you aware, Elder, of the Mission Rule stating that an Elder is not allowed to be in a dating relationship while on his mission?"

I'm aware of it. "Yes."

"So why on Earth would you deliberately break a Mission Rule?"

"I…I don't know, Sir."

"As your District 3 Leader, I forbid you to contact that girl for the rest of your mission. Is this understood, Elder Price?"

Dear God, he can't do this to me. "Yes, Sir."

The smile gets wider. "Good. Elders, you are dismissed."

As I walk away with the other Elders, we start to engage in mindless conversation, but I'm not really listening. All I can think about is the fact that I'm not allowed to see Mary again, and I can't even technically tell her.

I know in my heart that I have to do one thing, and I know I'll have Hell dreams for the rest of my life because of it.

I have to see her again, no matter what it takes.

**Thanks guys! Please Please Please review! And go read "The Atheist Girl's Hell Dream" if you haven't already! :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! Sorry this took FOREVER to write, time is getting short on me. You better enjoy this! and as always, please please Review! Love you guys!**

"Kevin, I'm tired…"

"Come on, Arnold, just two more blocks! I promise, when you see where I'm taking you, all the walking will be worth it."

"OK, _fine_. But it better be pretty cool, or I'm going to be really mad at you!"

"Trust me, Arnold, it's the coolest thing ever."

Arnold trudges behind me, dragging his feet with every step. He looks like a five year old.

After a while, we finally arrive at the place. "Look!" I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, pointing to the store we're standing in front of. "Here we are!"

Arnold looks into the store, and his eyes pop, because the store is a Star Trek gift shop.

"Oh. My. _GOSH!_" He begins to bounce up and down with excitement. "This is so awesome! I'm going in!" He flings open the glass door, smacks himself in the head, and wanders inside, dazed.

I look to make sure he's completely immersed in the store, and then I run across the street to the restaurant that he clearly didn't notice: The _Cranberry. _

When I enter, I see her sitting at the two-person table next to the maître-'d stand. She waves, and I indicate to the woman at the stand that Mary is my party. The maître-'d nods, and I sit down at the table.

"God, I thought you'd never get here!" she says, laughing. I wince when she takes the Lord's name in vain, but I don't think she notices.

"Sorry, Arnold wouldn't walk fast. Did you order yet?"

"No. I just ordered us some water, though. It's coming."

"Great! Thanks."

There is a moment of silence, until she asks me, "So…why are you here? I mean, is it required that every Mormon guy's gotta visit a different city every year or something?"

"Well, at least once in your life, your church…or, as we believe, Heavenly Father…sends you on a mission to preach Mormonism. It could be anywhere in the world. These two Elders I knew at the church are preaching in France right now."

"Wow! That's amazing!" Her eyes light up, and they reflect excitement. "I've always wanted to go to France! Paris, especially. The Eiffel Tower is just gorgeous! I've seen pictures, and I want to go there so badly! Can you imagine the absolute thrill of standing up on top of that huge structure! If…"

She talks on and on, and after a while, I begin to realize that her love for France is sort of like my love for Orlando. I start really listening to what she's saying, and even I get engaged as she tells me of all the sights in Paris. She's really got a thing with words. After about three straight minutes of back-and-forth conversation, we notice that the waiter has been standing next to us with our water, waiting for us to finish talking. When he finally gets to set down the glasses and walks away with a huff, we both crack up laughing. After the laughing fit is over, there is another bit of silence.

"What's the deal with the red-headed guy you were with when I saw you in Central Park?" she inquires, raising one eyebrow. "He seems like he's more on the corset-too-tight side of society."

I laugh. "Well, er, after you walked away, he asked if I was seeing you."

"And?"

The red-hot flush returns to my cheeks. "I…I said yes."

I look up to see her smiling at me. "Well?" I ask her, sounding a bit too desperate. "Are we…"

"Are we what?" She knows the answer, I can tell by her smile, but she just wants to hear me say it.

I feel like a tomato when I reply, "Are we…you know…_dating_?"

She laughs lightly. "Of course we are!" I breathe an internal sigh of relief. Jeez, after only a week of knowing her, I already want this to be a relationship. Well, I guess I got my wish.

Her stare catches me after a bit, and she asks, "So? What's the catch?"

Before replying, I take a deep breath and look her earnestly in the eye. "He says that I'm not to contact you for the rest of my two-year mission."

She gives me an incredulous look. "What? Seriously?"

I nod.  
>"How…what…can he even do that?" The look on her face is angry.<p>

I nod again. "It's a Mission Rule."

"Which one?" Her voice is sharp and demanding.

I rack my brain. "46, I think."

She rolls her eyes and laughs harshly. "I bet he's just jealous."

"Yeah, right. I bet he's got a lot more to worry about than getting a girlfriend."

Mary shrugs, then reaches for her water, which has remained untouched for the entire conversation. "Still, this sucks."

"I know."

She takes a long swig of water, eyeing me. When she puts it down, she cracks a small smile. "This doesn't mean we shouldn't keep dating."

I try to decode what she's trying to say. "You mean…we should break the rules?"

"Do you seriously think Rule 47…"

"46."

"Fine, whatever…Rule 46…can stand in the way of this?" she says determinedly, indicating our relationship with her hands, perfectly manicured and polished with a bit of white at the end of each nail. Heck, everything about her is perfection.

"No," I reply, agreeing with her. "we can definitely keep this up."

She grins, squeezing my hand from under the table. "Definitely."

There is more silence, and I absentmindedly gaze out the window across the street. And then I realize something. "_Arnold! _I totally forgot about him! He's probably looking for me…" I say in a panic.

Mary chortles. "Oh, come on, don't worry about him. From what you described to me, he's probably still looking through the first half of the store." She's got a point. I relax slightly and look back at her. Her green eyes are flashing with glints of light from the headlights of cars outside on the street.

"And besides," she says, with the smile back on her face, "we still haven't ordered any food."

**Thanks for waiting guys! Review please! xoxo**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, guys! I. Love. This. Chapter. It was really interesting and fun to write, and it took me literally 25 minutes! I got so into it and the ideas were just pouring out of me. So here's what you can expect: hints at Elder Thomas's past, and a _lot _of McPricely angst (but not how you would expect it!). Please enjoy, and please review! Thanks so much, everyone! Love you all! **

I walk into the Conference Room with Arnold for breakfast the next morning, and only three are seated at the table: Elder Thomas, Elder Stewart, and Elder McKinley. None of them are speaking. All three look up from their food at me and Arnold as we enter, and Elder Thomas motions for me to sit next to him.

I set my backpack down underneath the chair and say to him, "Morning, Elder."

He says in reply, "Hi, Elder Price," and then goes back to his breakfast. I look and see that he's poking at a rectangle-shaped thing covered in a Pepto-Bismol pink glaze.

"What is that thing?"

He looks up at me in slight disbelief. "You've never seen these before?"

I shake my head. "No. Is it good?"

"Of course it is! It's a Poptart." He breaks off a piece and hands it to me. I tentatively raise the food to my mouth, and when my tongue touches it, I gag. It tastes synthetic, and soon the reek of artificial strawberries fills my nose and throat.

"Blargh!" I pull the Poptart away from my mouth and attempt to rid the taste from my system. "That's disgusting! How do you eat these?"

I expect him to defend his beloved food, but instead he kind of spaces out, staring blankly at the remains of the Poptart in his hand. "I…I have no idea."

I'm a little weirded out but I don't want to question him. Instead, I absentmindedly watch him eat the Poptart. He looks a lot younger than I previously thought, probably in or just out of college. When he eats, he gets this disconnected look on his face, like he's in another world.

Just then, Elder McKinley enters the Conference Room with a stack of mail in his hand.  
>"Mail's here," he announces indifferently. By this time, several more pairs of Elders have gotten their breakfasts and taken a seat at the large table. Elder McKinley shifts through the mail, handing out letters and small packages to the Elders present and setting aside the mail for the ones absent. When he reaches a light blue envelope, he gives it a quizzical look. Then, as he looks at the return address, I see his expression change from confused to furious in a matter of moments. He jerks his head up at the other Elders until he finds my eyes.<p>

"Elder Price." he says, with the slow tempo one uses when trying not to explode in anger. "Come here. _Now._"

Without hesitation and to not further agitate him, I get up from my chair quickly. I steal a glance at Elder Thomas, who looks apprehensive for my fate. I raise my eyebrows, trying to tell him, _I'm going to be fine. Don't worry about me._

When I reach Elder McKinley, though, I quickly know that I'm not going to be fine. His face is beet red with pure anger, almost matching his hair. "Can we have a talk, Elder Price?" he says in a harsh whisper.

I nod, almost too quickly. He grabs me roughly by the arm, digging his sharp nails into my flesh. "This way."

He leads me out into the hallway and into another empty conference room next door. He walks us in and shuts the door loudly.

"Have a seat."

I sit down in the closest chair. McKinley stands in front of me, hands on his hips, with the envelope in his hand. He tosses it at me and it lands in my lap. After picking it up, I look at the return address. _Mary O'Keefe. 82736 42nd Street, Apt. 305, New York, NY._

"Oh." I say, at a loss for words.

"Yeah," replies McKinley, spitting out each and every word. "Oh."

I glance up at him, and he looks like he wants to kill me. "Look, Elder McKinley, I can explain, see…"

"Shut up." His sudden, sharp insult strikes me dumb. "There is no excuse for this. _Obviously _you've been writing back and forth previously." We weren't, but I don't want to tell him that. Not when he's like this. "So I want to know, Elder Price…" His voice drops, then explodes. "…did I, or did I not, tell you to not communicate with Mary O'Keefe for the _rest of your two-year mission_?"

"Yes."

There is silence as he stares me down, boring holes through the back of my skull. But suddenly, his voice softens. "Why are you even wasting your time?"

"What?"

He looks at me gently. "Women are so complicated, Elder Price. I learned that the hard way."

I stare at him. _What is he getting at?_

"It makes me wonder, Kevin." He's using my first name? Can you say unprofessional? "Such a smart young man like you could surely figure it out. Especially one of your…" he greedily stares at the rest of my body, "…_figure._"

_What the heck? _"Um…Elder McKinley?"

"Please, call me Connor."

I want to leave. I'm getting out of here. But as soon as I rise, he softly pushes me back down into my chair. There's no escape. I swallow hard and glance away, refusing to meet his eyes.

Out of the corner of my vision, I can see his hand reaching for the right side of my face. He strokes the hair behind my ear. "Just relax, Kevin," he whispers softly, "I promise I can make all your stress go away."

Oh, my good Lord. "Stop it! You're making me uncomfortable, Elder McKinley! Just stop…"

"I told you, you can call me Connor."

"I don't _want _to call you Connor! Just shut up!" I try to stand again, and this time I succeed, only to be standing face to face with Connor. His eyes are just inches from mine. "Get out of my way, Elder. I'm going back to breakfast. Goodbye." I try to sidestep him, but he puts his hands on my shoulders. It's useless to struggle. He's going to win, I know it.

He stares me in the eyes, and I am powerless to look away. "I'm not gay, Elder. You may be, and I respect that, but I'm not. And you have no right to try to make me have sex with you!"

Instead of backing off, like I might have expected, he just keeps staring at me. "It's going to feel unnatural for a while, but trust me…once you find yourself a little bit more, it's going to seem like second nature."

"_Shut up!_"

I don't have time to try and run, because he grabs my face and pulls it towards his. Before I realize what is happening, his lips are on mine. I attempt to pry myself away, but his hands are too strong. I can do nothing and wait for him to be done with me. I feel nothing as he kisses me, nothing except the shock and the anger of being taken advantage of. I know I'm not gay, so it means nothing.

When Elder McKinley finally pulls away and looks at me, expecting me to say something, I glare at him. "You are sick, Connor, do you know that? Just sick. Only a person like you would try to make a 24-year-old guy have sex with someone your age."

"But," he tries to say, and he looks like he's about to cry, "I love you, Kevin."

I look down, not wanting to see his tears. "Well, I don't." I feel awful for making him cry, but he is a terrible, selfish person. I realize that Mary was right: he is jealous. But not jealous of me for having a girlfriend when he's not married, but jealous of me for being in a relationship with Mary, for seeing the thing he loves loving someone else instead of him. I can feel his pain, but not now. As I move to the door and open it, I look back at him. He's sobbing, and I can tell he feels awful. I feel a bit of myself dying inside. "Did you notice I used your first name? I hope you know that's all you'll get."

_Slam _goes the door.

**Pretty angsty, huh! Haha, please review and tell me how I did! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Howdy, guys! Chapter 8! It's kinda short, but there's a nice, long chapter 9 waiting for you soon! Love you guys! Please review! **

The wind is at it again, biting the faces of the hundreds of New Yorkers passing by our troupe of Elders, completely ignoring us.

"Hello! Miss, are you interested in hearing about…OK, not interested. Oh, hi, Sir, would you like to change your life with this…wait, come back! Dang it!"

This is basically how Arnold, Elder Thomas, and I spend three hours at Columbus Circle, advertising the _Book of Mormon, _waiting for someone to pay us the slightest bit of attention.

"Nobody cares."

"I know that, Elder, but we can't just leave!"

"Yeah, Elder Price is right, Elder Cunningham. If we leave, dozens of people will miss out on a great opportunity to find Heavenly Father!" Elder Thomas's motivational efforts seem to have some effect on Arnold, because he shrugs and resumes shouting out advertisements for the _Book. _

I'm impressed. "Wow," I say to Elder Thomas, "you sure know how to put faith in somebody, huh?"

Unexpectedly, his head drops and his eyes avert mine. "We…learned a lot about faith, my family, for a…period of time."

This kid speaks in riddles. "Oh…of course."

I look at him closer, and his eyes are filled with sadness, an unimaginable longing that can't be fulfilled.

"I wish we had it back."

I don't want to ask. I leave him to his own thoughts and start shouting again. "Change your life today! Hello, Ma'am, can I have a moment of your time to talk about…damn it!" I curse under my breath, and no one hears me.

Elder Thomas and Arnold go over to the other side of the Columbus statue, and I am left alone. After several more desperate attempts to advertise the _Book,_ I sigh and give up, going back to lean against the statue. I people-watch for a while, until even that gets boring. Then, I play with the button on the inside of my sleeve. It's not until then that I hear a voice from behind me.

"Kevin."

I turn around sharply to see a woman on crutches, her left foot in a cast. Her face is bruised, and there's a large cut on her left cheek. A black eye completes the package. She looks at me with sad, green eyes, full of pain.

"Mary?"

She nods sadly and bursts into tears. I run to her and put my arms around her shoulders, holding her close to my body. "Shh, it's going to be OK, it's going to be fine," I say as I rock her back and forth with her sobbing into my coat. After a long while, I let go and put my hands on her shoulders, leaning closer to her. "Who did this to you? I want to know _everything._"

She takes a deep breath and starts talking in rushed speech. "I was…walking home yesterday from…from a friend's house down the street at about…about 1:30 A.M. I was…just about to enter my apartment building when somebody…came out from the nearby alley, and he…he pulled me back there. And he started hitting me and punching me and beating me to the ground…and…and I fell on my ankle and I broke it. Someone…someone saw it and called the…the police, but the guy…he got away."

I am absolutely shocked at this news. "Do you remember who beat you?"

She shakes her head, trying to remember. "He had…square glasses, and…and red hair."

I don't even have to ask. I take my hands off her shoulders and turn away from her. In fury, I clench my fists together, squeezing them tight until it hurts. The anger seeps through my pores, pushing on the back of my throat, pressuring me to scream.

_McKinley. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Holy. Freaking. Gosh. This took me a really, really long time! It's four and a half whole pages on Microsoft Word. Longer than most of my essays, anyway. ;) I promised I would give you an extra-long Chapter 9, so here. Please enjoy it, and as always, review please! Love you all! Seriously. 3 **

**P.S. The "I want a sign" bit is taken directly from "Hello, Dolly!". I don't own it. **

The number _305 _fills my brain, making me its slave. I repeat it over and over in my mind until I could do it in my sleep. It's so important because I'm standing in front of Mary's apartment right now, waiting until my arm works up the nerve to reach for the doorbell and ring it.

_Why am I here? _There's no point in asking myself that, because I already know the answer. I'm here because I feel awful for not checking on her for an entire month to see if she was doing alright with her injuries, but I know that if I had tried to contact her, just once, psycho Connor might have snapped again, possibly even killing her. I push the awful thought out of my brain. I prefer not to think about her in pain.

I confronted Connor later that day when Mary found me at Columbus Circle. He denied ever touching her, or even talking to her after he first met her. I could tell he was lying, though, by the way his voice rose in accusation and how his face flushed scarlet, not for the first time. I hate him. He can go to Hell. And not just because he's gay.

I'm also here because I miss her. So badly. I want to see her face and hold her hand, and tell her that I will do whatever it takes to protect her from the evil, persistent force that is Jealous Connor.

I count down in my head. _Three, two, one. _On "one," I jerk my arm forward uncertainly towards the doorbell. I hear a light, pleasant _ding dong ding dong _echo from behind the wooden door. And then I hear the click of a lock. The door opens. And sure enough, it's Mary. But not really.

The crutches are gone. She looks as though she's completely recovered from her injuries, and her black eye had all but disappeared, apart from a faint, just barely visible ring of dark skin around it. But she doesn't look normal. Her eyes are sad and lonely, and they're red, like she's been crying. She looks like she didn't sleep very well last night. But her hair is perfect, and the minimal amount of makeup she has on is untouched by her previous crying session she must have had. When she sees me, her eyebrows raise slightly.

"Hi, Mary."

"Hi, Kevin." Her voice is flat, without motivation. Something's terribly wrong.

"What's the matter? Are you OK?"

She sighs and breaks eye contact, gazing sorrowfully at the ground. "Just…come inside, Kevin."

She opens the door wider, and I step in. A small hallway greets me. "This way."

I close the door behind me, take off my shoes, and follow her through the hallway and into her kitchen. And let me just say: the place is spotless. Everything is in order, all the metal in the room sparkles, and there's not a speck of dust to be found anywhere. Before I can say anything about it, though, she opens the door to another room. "Come in here," she says, her voice faltering.

When I step into the room, I recognize it as a bedroom. It's clean, just like the kitchen, but something seems amiss. I scan the room, and I find a wooden vanity with a mirror. On the vanity are various framed pictures, a metal candleholder in the shape of a crucifix, and I even spot a copy of the _Bible, _which looks new, or at least barely used. Mary walks over to the vanity, and I follow her. She sits down in a tiny stool and picks up this weird-looking, really long necklace with evenly-spaced beads and a pewter cross at the end of it.

"What's that?"

"A rosary."

It must be a Catholic thing, so I don't say anything else about it. She carefully hangs the rosary on the side of the mirror while I wait for her to talk, because obviously the reason she's so upset is hidden on the vanity. Then, I think of the pictures. I look over Mary's shoulder at one of the frames. It shows a smiling couple on their wedding day. One of them is Mary. The other is a guy I've never seen before, with a jet-black mop of hair and electric blue eyes. The picture looks like it was dated a couple years back. Then, I piece it together.

"Mary…is this your husband?"

I look at her reflection in the mirror. She looks at mine. "Yes."

I'm confused. "So, where is he now?"

Her head drops. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying not to cry. "He's…he's dead, Kevin. Today is the anniversary of his death."

Wow. She never told me about that.

"Oh…oh, my gosh, that's awful. This was a really bad time to come, I'll just go…"

"Please don't leave, Kevin."

I stop and look at her. Her eyes are full of tears. "Can you stay, Kevin? I want someone to talk to. Please."

Nodding, I reply, "Of course. Any time."

"Thank you." She stands up from the stool and stares blankly at her reflection in the mirror, as if she's shocked to see herself cry. I reach out my hand and gently touch her arm. She doesn't flinch, but instead her hand lifts up across her chest and rests on top of mine. I feel her squeeze my hand, as if it was a spasm of her fingers, and I'm not sure if it's intentional or not.

"His name was Michael."

I say nothing, just waiting for her to continue.

"We met in college, and we got married two months after graduation. June 29th was our wedding day. We were both twenty-two. My degree was in Piano and Music Composition. His was Sales and Communications.

He worked in an office, selling textbooks and school supplies in bulk. I worked as a studio pianist, playing for album recordings. We loved our jobs. We were happy. We were happy because we loved each other, and no amount of money could be set equal to that.

When we moved into this apartment, he told me that this would be our place. That he would stay here with me for as long as he lived." She stares wistfully at the photographs on the vanity. I stay silent. "He was the only one I ever loved, and I'll love him for the rest of my life."

When she resumes looking at my reflection, her story continues.

"One Friday morning, October 15th, before he left for work, he told me that he had an office party to go to that night. He said it would be over by 11 and that he'd be home by 11:30.

When it came time for him to leave for the party, I stayed up in the living room, watching TV. I went to bed at 11, a half-hour before he was due home.

Then, for some unexplainable reason, I woke up that night at 3:49 A.M…I'll never forget that time…and looked over toward his side of the bed. He wasn't there.

I panicked and called the cops. I told them that he had been gone for nearly 4 hours more than he said he would be. The cops went to go get his information, and then they told me that…" Her voice fails her, and she stops looking in the mirror.

"That what?"

She takes a deep breath before she chokes out these next words: "That he had been hit by a drunk driver. On his way home. At 11:22 P.M."

There is dead silence in the room.

"He was completely sober when the crash happened. He didn't drink. He never drank. He hated the taste." Her eyes fill with tears. "It just doesn't make sense. How something you've been faithfully avoiding your whole life can kill you in the end." She laughs harshly, but it's stopped by the audible lump at the back of her throat. Then, she takes her hand off mine, and I let my hand fall back at my side. She goes and sits on the bed, which has a faded yellow comforter. I join her.

"I didn't cry that day. I just screamed. I screamed at myself, I screamed at society, but most of all, I screamed at God. I hated how He could just go and take everything I loved away from me. I hated how His "plan" involved killing the best thing that ever happened to me. That was the day when I told myself I didn't believe in God anymore, because God is a sadistic asshole for murdering my husband."

"But…I thought you were Catholic."

"Well, no, not really. But I just keep my Catholic name…for him."

After she says that, all my confusion is lifted. I always wondered how a Catholic girl could live with herself for kissing a guy she just met and whose name she didn't even know.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There is more silence. Then, she leans on me unexpectedly, resting her head on my shoulder. "I just miss him."

I put one arm around her waist, and my other hand runs through her hair. It's soft, like the fur of a cat. We stay like this for who knows how long. It feels right, being so close to her. After a while, I ask her, "Well…do you have faith that God exists?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you could always renew that faithfulness through…um…Mormonism." The request seems a bit weak, considering what she just told me, but I have to do my job somehow. Besides, if I could get her to just try being Mormon, she might see why finding Heavenly Father changed my life and made me so happy. She could have some faith in her existence restored.

She shakes her head a bit. "No. I could never do that."

"Why not?"

"My husband…he's watching me from Heaven. I know it. Being Catholic is my way of telling him I still love him."

Then I want to ask her why she acts so un-Catholic, and why even be Catholic when she's an atheist at heart, but I know that this isn't the time.

"Please. Just give it a chance. It could change your thinking. Please, Mary. For me."

She doesn't respond. She just gently runs her fingers up and down my arm that's around her waist. "I couldn't. Really, I couldn't." I hear tears in her voice, filled with the confliction between her new interest and the man she's loved unconditionally for two years.

"Yes, you can. Do you ever pray to God anymore?"

A pause. "Sometimes."

"What do you ask him for?"

She thinks. "Piece of mind."

"Well, Mormons believe that if you ask God in faith, he'll answer you, no matter what you ask for. If you try Mormonism, Heavenly Father might grant you your piece of mind!"

She breaks our little embrace position and looks at me. "I can't just abandon Catholicism. It's my husband!"

"I didn't say you have to."

"I know, but still…"

"Mary, I want the best for you."

"I know you do, but even so, it's just that I can't abandon him!"

"You won't have to. If you ask Heavenly Father for piece of mind, maybe Michael will forgive you in your mind, too."

She thinks that over for a bit. "I guess you're right."

"Just try it. For me."

She sighs. "Alright. I will. What do I have to lose?"

I smile. "Nothing."

She smiles back. "Still, I wonder if…"

Her sentence is never finished, but I think me kissing her is an acceptable interruption. I feel her surprise as she freezes at first, and then the tension releases. It's fairly brief, but it's genuine, and it seems as if we've been doing this for ages.

When we part, we just stare at each other, grinning like idiots. Then, Mary lifts up her eyes and tilts her face towards the ceiling. I do, too, thinking that there's a spider up there or something, but there isn't. I'm confused until she says:

"Hi, Michael."

Oh.

"Michael, this is Kevin Price."

"Um…hi."

"Kevin is a really great guy, Michael. He's smart and considerate and a good listener."

"Not to mention handsome."

"And modest."

"Very funny, Mary."

"Come on, you know you like it when I make fun of you."

"I know."

"Anyway, Michael, Kevin is an amazing person. He's my boyfriend. And I love him." She reaches for my hand, and our fingers join like clockwork. "So I want a sign. Sometime today, that you approve."

I take a wild stab at talking to the essence of Mary's husband. "Hi, Michael. I just want to say that…that Mary must have been really lucky to have you for a husband, judging by how much her life was altered by you and your good nature. And I am the luckiest guy in the world to have her for a girlfriend."

She plants a kiss on my cheek and squeezes my hand. I return it.

Just then, I hear a faint whistling sound coming from the kitchen. It gets louder and louder.

"What's that sound?"

"I don't know. Let's go check it out."

Cautiously, we exit the bedroom and go into the kitchen. Immediately, I locate the source of the squealing sound: a kettle on the stove. Thick clouds of vapor pour out of the mouth of the kettle, and it is whistling profusely.

"Were you going to make tea or something, Mary?"

She stares at me with frightened, wide eyes. "I didn't put that kettle on. I haven't used it in weeks."

I realize it right away. It takes her a little bit longer before she figures it out. When she does, her face splits into a huge smile and she throws her arms around my waist. I give a small "oof!" of surprise, but she just hugs me tighter until I choke out in the middle of my laughter, "OK, OK, Mary, stop! You're hugging me to death!"

She lets go and looks at me, still grinning. Then, she turns toward the stove. "Well, what about the kettle?"

I smile at her and put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to me. "It's OK. You got any instant coffee?"

**Thanks so much, guys! Review! **


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